Saphira
by SithSlayer
Summary: A story bridging the gap between Saphira being laid, and Eragon hatching her.
1. Chapter 1

uthor's Note: This is the result of a writing challenge I accepted from the 'Writing Challenges and the Dwarven Fan Club' Forum. It is about Saphira before she hatched and became Saphira, Eragon's dragon. Merry reading.

Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon, I don't own Saphira, I don't own Vrael, but I do own Sylvana and Vrael's riding partner. All OC's are mine, but anything already written by Paolini is not.

**_Prologue_**

Consciousness. She wasn't sure how it came for the other creatures, but to her it came sudden, like the fire that comes to a pile of dry brush when the sparks of a tinderbox hit it. That was her first thought; her second was that _it wasn't time_.

It was an impulsive thing, she realized, an unconscious questing of her mind for something. What she had been looking for, she didn't know, but she hadn't found it. What she had found was a way to check her surroundings without seeing. For now that she thought to open her eyes, she realized that there was nothing to see. She seemed to be surrounded by a warm liquid, and beyond that by something more solid. That solid thing was the problem, of course; it was blocking the light. She reached out with a clawed forefoot to break the solid, but the thought came again. _It wasn't time_.

So now she knew that that meant it wasn't time to leave… whatever this was—yet. Then she remembered—she could check out her surroundings without seeing! But how had she done it?...

How long she struggled to remember how to duplicate an unconscious movement she didn't know, as time is hard to measure when there is nothing to hear or see. Frustration began to seethe within her, squirming around as does the many-coiled snake, seeking release. After frustration had established itself, another emotion began to writhe around in her mind—anger. Struggling harder and harder, the anger suddenly flared to life; and she was through.

Through the hole in the mental barrier she sent a questing tendril or thought. If it could have been formed into words it would have been akin to yelling "Hello?" into an someone's house to see if they were home, and as such, she didn't expect a reply.

But something did reply—another consciousness grabbed on the thought tendril and yanked until their minds seemed so close as to press against each other.

"Listen, Watch, and Wait."

The voice boomed inside her head like thunder, deafening her mind and destroying the rest of that mental barrier. Thoughts then began to roil around in her mind, thoughts that weren't hers. She listened to them and they taught her many things. Most she forgot, and wouldn't remember until they were needed, and then they would be forgotten again. But just as many she remembered; how to speak, how to see using only her mind, and the history of her people all the way up to the time of people called The Riders.

Then the presence was gone, and she was left alone in her egg again. Things made more sense now that the voice had taught her words. She knew she was in her egg and that when the time was right, she would leave her egg and become a hatchling.

The mental presence swiftly touched up against her mind. "Now might be a good time to watch and listen, young one."

So she reached out with a tendril of thought and found a rodent near by. She carried herself into its mind and used its senses as if they were hers.

"...is a good one. Only three days out of the womb and Sylvana says she was already mind talking."

"Indeed. Kind Sylvana, our choice has been made. Under your permission, we request that the blue and white egg may be taken and raised to be a dragon for our riders."

"_Yes._" The voice projected into everyone's minds—even the rodents—and she instantly knew who that otherworldly presence was. Her mother.

"_You may take this precious baby and raise her to be one of yours, with my blessing upon her. Take her, and be kind to her. May your swords stay sharp and your magic unfailing._"

"Thank you Sylvana."

Then one of the men—the older one—bent down and picked up her egg. She could see it now, a beautiful blue oblong spider webbed with lighter white. It was an odd feeling, to be picked up and stay in one place at the same time. As she left the rodents body she heard the younger one speak to the elder. "Come on Vrael, I heard that the Urgals might be planning a last attack..."

And she slept.

Okay, so maybe not the best chapter in the world, but interesting. Just wait until she witnesses the rise of Galbatorix...


	2. The Town in Inzilbêth

_**Chapter 1**_

By the time she awoke, the young dragon in her egg was aware that she had moved a great distance from wherever she had been when Sylvana had been taking care of her, although she had no clue where she had been then, where she was now, or even how she got where she was now.

She pushed out with her mind, rejoicing at the absence of the mental barrier that repelled her first attempts at communication, and felt a peculiar presence nearby. She desperately wanted to see and hear what was going on around her to gain knowledge that may one day be useful, so she attempted to push herself through the outer layers of protection and into the presence's mind. It was as though she was trying to get through an iron wall though, and she made no headway with her mind. No matter how hard she pushed, it would not give.

"_I implore you, please, I really need to know what's going on._" she begged, but expected no answer, as there was no one to here.

"_Be that as it may_" came a reply, "_you aren't getting into _my_ head. There's a rodent nearby, use that." _Bewildered, she froze in shock. It seemed like whenever she didn't expect anyone to answer, they decided that they should. "_Well, come on, stop trying to press your way in as though I am some lowly life form!_" Quickly she stopped trying to force herself in.

"_Better. Now leave. Hmmm…, if you ever hatch, I'd think I might like to speak with you—mind you,_ if_ you hatch. Many won't…, but that's none of your business. Name's Maud, come look for me when you grow up. Go on now, leave a werecat in peace._"

Startled, she left and found the rodent that Maud had been talking about nearby. Again, she pressed herself inwards, although this time she succeeded in taking over the sight, sound, and other functions. Compared to breaking into Maud's mind, breaking into the rat was like trying to cut it open with a heated talon. Not that she would exactly know how easy that was…

The rat's eyes worked different than anything she could comprehend. She couldn't see anything at all that wasn't shaded in reds, blues, and yellows. The hearing was the important part, though, and she could understand that fine. Immediately, she heard voices talking.

"…made it in a day and a half, that's a record for young Reldr here."

"_I could have gone faster, had you asked._" A dragon's voice reverberated, "_you just never seem to gather your manners and be nice about asking._"

"I know Reldr, I was only teasing."

"_Humph_."

"Anyway, what were you saying, Ilúdör?" _That_ was Vrael, the one who had taken her from Sylvana, and Ilúdör must be the young one that had been traveling with him.

"Oh, yes, well, um, anyway, I forgot to mention earlier that Oromis requested he be brought along for the next couple of Showings, says he needs to take a break. I think he's just having trouble adjusting to being a teacher instead of an adventurer, and jealous that you still get assignments where he doesn't…"

She quickly lost track of the conversation as it turned towards gossip. She was bored, and didn't know where she was, which had been the entire reason for taking control of the rodent in the first place. She turned towards the dragon's mind, Reldr's, in an attempt to figure out where she was. Sending out a questioning tendril of thought, she asked _Where are we?_

"**_Where we are is none of your concern!"_** Reldr seemed very angry, though she couldn't fathom why. _Are you my father as Sylvana is my mother? _she asked.

Her mind reverberated as he chuckled. **_"Sylvana is not your mother, you poor, misguided child. Your mother deigned to leave but one of her eggs for a Rider. Sylvana is the dragon who takes care of such eggs, although she only lets the Riders take a few each year. It's how most wild dragons leave eggs for Riders. No, I am not your father, and no, Sylvana is not your mother. Now go back to your egg and do not touch another sentient mind until you hatch, do you understand?"_** By the time he was finished talking he was growling at her, and she could imagine smoke that had to be issuing forth from his nostrils.

Without replying she retreated from his mind. She couldn't understand why he yelled at her when Sylvana had not, but returned her mind to the rodent completely anyway, just in time to hear Reldr quietly inform Ilúdör of her action. Ilúdör frowned.

"Reldr says the baby just tried to invade the mind of one who was sentient, namingly him. Luckily, he was careful to talk nice and quiet; else he might have accidentally destroyed her fragile mind. He told her off, but I don't know if she is such a good choice for a Rider's dragon."

"Nonsense," Vrael replied, "I'm sure she had no idea at all how rude or dangerous that is. In fact, she's probably listening to us right now and is upset that she did something she shouldn't have." _Wow, he sure hit that nail on the head._ Vrael continued, saying "How was she supposed to know it was dangerous it was for a dragon to talk to another being until after it had well and hatched?"

"Hey! Vrael!" the unexpected voice made the dragonling jump. Luckily, no one was paying any attention to the rat, so no one wondered why it jumped when rats aren't exactly the jumpiest creatures on the planet.

"Whatever is the matter Oromis?" Vrael questioned the elf that had come running across the field to talk to him, calm in spite of the elf's obvious excitement, although he seemed to the dragonling just a bit exasperated.

"We just received news, the Urgals are marshaling themselves in what appears to be an invasion attempt near a small town in the province of Inzilbêth, if a Rider doesn't go _now_ the town might be obliterated and everyone there massacred. I was just about to call up some Riders, but since you're closest, it would be easiest if you and Ilúdör could go scare them off while I scramble some back-up."

"Seems like whenever I get a chance to come home all of Alagaësia conspires to take me away again. Oh well, at least the words of power are spoken over the dragon eggs when Sylvana receives them. Saddle back up Ilúdör, looks like we're going Urgal hunting."

Sighing, she settled down for a nap. There was no way they would be stupid enough to bring her along with, so why bother staying up? _Just rest for a few minutes..._

—————————————————————————————————————————————————

A sudden jolt bounced her back awake. Somehow, the Riders had forgotten that her egg was still with them, and she was now aboard a dragon en route to a small town in the province in Inzilbêth. At least, that was all to be presumed, as her rodent wasn't with her so she could neither see nor hear.

Speaking of which... She stretched out again, and found some kind of a bird of prey nearby, surprising in its proximity to the dragons. This time rather than take completely over, she just rode along the back of the being's mind, in enough to feel as though each decision was her own, but out enough so she had no real control over what the bird did. Looking down she saw that, indeed, she was where she thought she was. She settled into the bird's mind deeper and, after taking a moment to familiarize herself with it's patterns, took over. Now she could fly right along until they reached their destination.

How long it took was purely just a measure of time to the dragonling. Submerged as she was, she lost herself in the pure joy and freedom of flying, the feeling of being under no one's control. As such, she noticed nothing but the dragons flying alongside her—until an ominous plume of smoke rose into the air far ahead.

A muttered curse floated across the air to the ears of the bird. Suddenly, a wave of cold fear washed over the young dragon, and she unvolutarily retreated back into her egg. As soon as she was out of the birds mind, it squawked in shock and flew far away from the dragons. Her eyes and ears were gone. The feeling of gravity altered, and she knew the dragons were in a dive. Helpless, she could only wait until they dragons landed.

As soon as she felt the shock of talons on the ground she reached out and, finding a surprising number of birds nearby, took over one and looked about. A split second later she retreated back in, but the damage was done.

The town was gone. Buildings burned and broken, plants now nonexistant except for blackened fingers twisting towards the sky plagued the place, but even worse were the bodies that lay about, broken and bleeding. The men had all fallen defending their wives and children, their bodies twisted almost beyond recognition. The wives and their children looked as though they had been tortured as close to death as possible before the Urgals let them retreat to sweet death—their bodies were almost as unrecognizable. Any who had managed to survive had been eaten alive by the carrion birds now layering everything in their hunger for warm blood and flesh, such as that stuffing the throat of the bird she had controlled. The smoke twisting towards the sky seemed to contort into images of the dead, and the air seemed to echo with the cries of the dying.

The dragonling tried to block out the images but could not. Unable to do anything, she cried herself to sleep, images of bodies on paths stained red and carrion birds feasting on them flashing before her mind. In the last moment before the loss of consciousness, she noticed that in the whole town, she had not seen one weapon, though evidence of them was everywhere.

It wasn't really her concern anyway...


	3. The Crumbling Stone

**Authors Note:** I'd just like to say right off the bat that I'm incredibly sorry I haven't updated in forever. First it was me being lazy, then me procrastinating, and finally, when I was ready to get right down to it, my mom's computer broke down. It was horrible. But for all of you my loyal readers, here is chapter 2 (or three, depending on how you look at it).

_**Chapter 2**_

_The carnage we have seen on this day is a far cry worse than any which I have previously seen wrought. Death knows no fear and shows no mercy. As the men fell beside the women, so did the women fall beside their children. And lo, behold that not only one village was thus afflicted._

_The province of Inzilbêth is no more, for the only survivor of this massacre is our young Rider Galbatorix, who was unfortunate enough to be one of those who volunteered to come with us and saw that which was wrought. Town after town after town perished, nay, was destroyed, and not only have we found no weapon, Urgal or otherwise, but we have found no tracks leading to or from the scenes of death. The cruelty we saw evidenced in the torture of unarmed or defeated captives, the things done to the dying in their last minutes, and the absence of tracks suggests to us other creatures of magic were involved, for surely even an Urgal would not be quite _that_ cruel. They're just in it for a good fight._

_Galbatorix has much promise and I held hope that he might rise above and beyond, coming to be the best rider we'd had since Eragon, but this development has caused me to harbor doubts, for I fear the young rider seeks revenge. It is possible—nay, probable—that he is not strong enough to survive this strife. I know had I discovered my parents and family and friends thus perished I would have been gone long before now._

_Whenever I close my eyes I'm flying again, soaring in the clouds peacefully, longing to be only where I am and stay there in peace forevermore. But then ahead, a single plume of smoke begins to rise._

_And another._

_And another._

_Again and again they rise and we chase, sometimes arriving before the screams of the dying fade out. I land in field after field, town square after town square, street after street, and run. I put out flames, I look for those still living and I try but never manage to succeed. For I am trying to save anyone—human, elven, dwarven, even plant or animal. And the horrible feeling of helplessness, the feeling of being able to do absolutely nothing washes over me again. I look around at the blood-streaked streets, and the burnt and twisted fingers that are all that is left of dead plants, and the knocked-in houses. I stand and stare and wonder as I did all day, why? Why, why, why? I pile bodies and burn them, I dig holes and bury them, I try to salvage them from buildings. Limbs lay separated—heads too. Babies were torn apart and the pieces of their bodies were thrown with disregard over the bodies of their mothers and fathers and friends._

_The sheer enormity overwhelms me every single time I close eyes, and all I can do is stare at the scene of disaster and death, looking for any clues. Any clues at all! But they have all been hidden beyond our eyes and our magic._

_The dead, the dying, the broken and the whole—they call to me, they scream to me, they haunt my every waking moment—and many of those sleeping—and will not leave. They cry for revenge. They cry for help. They call to be avenged, for the one who is responsible for this to be destroyed—and I want to help them. I _want_ to do their bidding, and that is how I know they are not real. They are me. They are what I think and what I want and what could be. I cannot help but want action, violence, blood, death… anything to stop this from happening. To go back and save the innocent from their fate._

_That poor child of Inzilbêth. I _know_ that he will not survive this. I feel the solid stone on which we have stood for so long begin to crumble underneath, preparing to send us down to the chasm below. The fall of the Riders and the peace our way of life entails is coming._

_I fear that none may survive._

—Excerpt from the Journal of Vrael

The waking of a creature is a glorious thing, the coming to from a sleep no matter how hard the creature was held by it, no matter how vice-like a grip that sleep had, and it falls away to allow them to rise and greet the day, along with all it entails. But there are times when it may have been better for the creature to stay asleep for eternity, no matter what the nightmares they might encounter there.

Galbatorix rose upon this day with no expression showing upon his face, as had happened every day since that moment two weeks ago when he had carelessly thrown aside the boulder that had lay inside of his house physically, not magically—a feat normally impossible—and found the bodies of his parents. If he had found that they died peacefully in their sleep, he may have only mourned their passing, but with their limbs torn off and thrown, with bones and organs showing through the deeps cuts and bruises in their skin, with the looks on their faces showing that they had died while experiencing unimaginable pain, as well as that their bodies had been desecrated by fire and boulder, he was forced to do more. He would have revenge.

His teachers suspected, Vrael most of all, but none knew, for the rage was well hidden. He knew that if his teachers found that Galbatorix, one of their prized pupils, was seeking revenge, he would have no freedom. Thus he hid it, and hid it well. But soon would come the time of retribution, soon his parents would be avenged. Tonight Vrael and Ilúdör left to search for the demons that had done that dirty deed. They would not succeed. He knew they wouldn't. For they felt the strange compulsion to prove that the Urgals had been the bastards who had killed his parents, and would attempt to find their trail first. He would succeed where they would fail. He would do it right. He would avenge his parents.

That night when Vrael and Ilúdör left, the teachers would be watching Galbatorix especially carefully. He would go to bed and sleep. They would sigh with relief and go on about their nights. But before the sun rose the next morning, he would be gone. Oh, he would take a friend with him, to be sure, but they were _dragon riders_, and no amount of Urgals could defeat them this far into their training. He and his friend would ride into the Urgals remaining territory and kill them all. First those rams that challenged them, then the ones that didn't. Then would come the deaths of the females and children, and surely that would bait all of the remaining live Urgals into an attack. They would all die.

And his parents would be avenged.

Galbatorix walked on to breakfast, confident in his belief that tales of what he and his riding partner did in the following days would be remembered for years.

---

Okay, so now you've read chapter 2. I'm sorry if I disappointed any of you by leaving out Saphira, but it was necessary to do so this time. Sorry, she'll be in the next chapter. Oh, and if you weren't planning on it, it'd be really nice if you could use an extra 20 seconds to review. Thanks.


	4. Chapter 4

Authors Note: Despite the delay, here is chapter 3. I was actually considering dropping the story, but a friend gave me a swift kick in the butt and told me not to, so I got back onto it. Here you go.

**_Chapter 3_**

The tumult of that day was considerable, but a dragon babe yet unhatched has naught to worry about when considering what they will take with them on a journey of indefinite length. To be safe, she made sure there were rodents nearby that she could use when it came time to go, since from her understanding most of the work would be done in the air. As time came and went, though, an insatiable curiosity began to work it's way into her, and she could not go another minute without finding out why it was that humans took so long to leave on a journey.

She was becoming more experienced at it, so manifesting one of the various rodents nearby was quick. Immediately voices flooded into her sensitive ears. Ignoring the odd images the eyesight was giving her she focused into the conversation.

"…ure that you don't need it?"

"Come now Menëshai, how could we possibly use that?

"Well… Um… Maybe if you- "

"No, we'll be fine without it, thank you very much for trying."

"Okay… But what about taking a—"

This went on for quite awhile, Menëshai first pestering Vrael, then Ilúdör, then Vrael again. Over time it became apparent that the reason humans (or Riders, in any case) took so long to prepare for a journey was because first one person, then another, then another would come along and think they knew best and pester the journeyers about this, that, and the other thing while the Riders calmly explained, no, they didn't need one of those, and here was why not, and thanks for trying though, all the time somehow managing not to let the good Samaritan know that five people before them had already suggested the same thing. Finally though, it seemed as though the stream of do-gooders had ended.

"Vrael, I think the people have stopped coming."

"Quickly then, let's get out of here before more come."

And they were off.

The actual departure was so swift when compared to the preparation that the dragonling had no time to make sure there was a rodent in one of the saddlebags. Luck was with her, though, and she found one already there, but then the true challenge presented itself. Whenever it was allowed to think and move on its own, it would take off, destroying whatever it could, mostly food, as it had been doing before she took over. If let loose for long enough on its own, it would probably destroy the food and then eat itself right out of the bag, falling to its death. But she couldn't keep it under control forever!

In the end she forced it to build a cage to keep itself in, one deep enough in the bag so that it wouldn't be found anytime soon, but close enough to the surface so that she could still hear conversations. It was quite the challenge, as rodents do not have opposable thumbs, so all the work had to be done with its mouth. After considerable time was spent, she finally had it done, but while she was doing this the dragons had flown quite high up, higher than any birds would dare go. Her sight was gone, then, without a bird to control, but that was beyond her power. She tuned back into the rodent's mind, just in time to catch a conversation.

"Vrael, I now must ask. As we are no longer in public, why do you insist on taking that egg wherever we go? Think carefully, for if the reason you insist upon threatening the life of a precious babe is not wise, I will be sure that you are never entrusted with one again."

There was a pause, and an odd noise followed, what she assumed was a sigh.

"Ilúdör, I don't know what you would rank as a wise reason, so I will tell the truth. As you know, I have felt premonitions of late, and have tried many a time to divine what the future may hold for our kind. Before us lies a road with more forks than the norm. We are coming to a turning point where nearly anything might happen. The only thing I find consistent is that when I see myself, no matter where I go, no matter what's going on, I bring this egg with. Every single path, every single time, it is this way. And though I'm sure I could change this fate, I'm certain there's some kind of a reason behind it. And so I go."

Another pause.

"Well, that's good enough for now, I guess, but expect to talk about it again when we get back."

"I'm counting on it."

---

By all accounts the journey must have been hard on both riders and dragons, but the dragon babe could either sleep or not. No exhaustion came from what she was doing, residing in this prison of an egg. So with no wants or needs besides knowledge, the trek seems to drag on and on. They flew all day at top speeds, and went straight to sleep at night after landing, with limited talking in the morning at night. In short, nothing interesting happened to help the time pass more quickly. The plus of this, though, was that they were at the remains of Inzilbêth in just days, as compared to the months it would have taken to walk, the weeks it would have taken on horseback, or the days added on had they taken the journey easily.

But once they were there, what would they do?

Immediately upon landing at the most recent of the remains, the dragonling found and took over a hawk, keen to see. Then, purely as a challenge, she went back and tried to take the rodents mind at the same time. At first, it was not incredibly challenging, but as the minutes went by she felt herself being mentally taxed not two times as fast, but at least five. And then it happened.

Then, solely by coincidence, both animals jumped at the same time. Not literally, of course, but figuratively. It was not unusual for an animal she was controlling to try on occasion to escape her grasp, but she could always reign them in with incredible ease, to lie and confuse their mind into thinking they were doing this of their own free will.

Unfortunately, this was the first time two animals at once had done it. She had the horrendously incredible experience of two different planes of vision, sight, sound, and smell both fighting for freedom and dominance over the other. Whereas before she switched from one animal to the other, never in both at once, now both were present fighting for control.

The result was incredible. It felt as if someone were trying to split her eyes into pieces, along with in her ears, nose, and other sensory organs. Pain beyond pain! It felt as though she were being stung and stabbed, shot and ripped, torn limb from limb! Such a thing is impossible to describe other than to say death would be welcome before it. Thankfully for her, as the agony mounted, it was quick to become too much for her fragile body to handle. Before long, she was swallowed by the abyss.

------

Okay, there it was. I know it was kind of pathetic considering the wait, but it is more of a setup chapter for the next few to come. If you actually got to the end of this chapter without giving up, and are reading this, make sure you review!

Until next chapter...


	5. Urgal Attack!

_**Chapter 4**_

That night the camp was silent, as it had been every night for the past week. A silence pervaded, unbroken by either Rider as they contemplated the days events. They had thought, when finding the dead freshly so, that there was nothing that could even come close to matching the atrocity of it, but the dead weeks old, skin only patches covering old organs, bodies half gone and accompanied by the bodies of carrion birds dead from bloating, all of which still being feasted on by the now fat scavengers, forced them to admit that they might have been wrong. And after a week of investigating the now-ruins of Inzilbêth, they had yet to find a hint of the forces that had perpetrated this act.

They were beginning to think they should just go home.

And that night, like all the nights before, they went to their bed rolls with the scent of death still in their nostrils, images from the course of the day flashing before their closed eyes, haunting them in their dreams. But this night, they were not awakened by the sound of their own screaming, this night, they were awoken by the very Urgals they sought.

The creatures were trying their hardest to be quiet, to their credit, but unfortunately they were still about as loud as rampaging rhinos. Vrael and Ilúdör were awoken when a particularly rowdy pair got in a fight and knocked over a rotting tree, giving them just the warning they needed. In seconds they had their bows and their swords. With the calm only found in veteran fighters when facing a numerically superior foe, they crept into the shadows of their camps with not a spoken word, both communicating with their dragons by unspoken consent, calling to them for help if need be.

Then the Urgals were in the camp, crashing through underbrush, kicking the burning logs of the fire, and, finally reaching the bedrolls of the Riders, theydrew their spears. Screaming war cries to their gods they stabbed what they assumed were the defenseless Riders.

The first few on the right and left edges of the camp fell to sword and arrow before they knew what hit them, and while the next bunch saw it coming, they had their throats slit before they could make a sound. Finally, the sound of falling bodies alerted the main of the group that they had not succeeded in taking the Riders; rather, they had succeeded in falling victim to superior planning.

By then Vrael had fought his way into the center of the Urgals and weapons were drawn. There was a moment of stillness, and the moment stretched to longer than a moment, and it swallowed everything into it, holding them in stasis, waiting for the first move.

That move was Vrael's, breaking the stillness with a feint to the right. The Urgals lunged, but he was gone already, off to the left. Sprinting, he took the next Urgal through the chest then rolled, coming back up behind its partner, who was stabbed by its fellows when they recklessly lunged for Vrael and he got in the way. A slash to the left, a stab to the right, a feint low center and the actual cut high took him past a trio, the last of which's head was still rolling on the ground as he left. In front of him nowwas a powerful looking beast, larger then his fellows by half with full battle armor,battle axe raised. He seemed ready for any attack Vrael could throw at him, except the one he did. Retrieving his thrown sword from the Urgal's eye he used it's dying body as a springboard, launching him into the largest knot of Urgals in the camp.

But now he had fought himself into a trap; surrounded by his foe, he had nowhere to go. They had circled around him and had formed a defensive ring; none making a single aggressive move that would leave them open to his sword. If only one of them would break the circle! But they were intelligent enough to stay, to wait for his move. With no other option, he attacked, but was repulsed. Again he attacked and again they pushed him back. The third time an Urgal lunged just a little too far at him and fell victim to Vrael's sword, but one of its fellowsimmediately stepped up from behind it, filling the circles weakness.Vrael was truly trapped.

At least, until Ilúdör's arrow hit its mark on the largest Urgal in the circle. Using the distraction Vrael used an extremely foolish move, wind milling with his sword, leaving him open to attack after attack but dropping a large number of his foe. Luckily enough the Urgals were terrified by his attackand backed away, clearing the ground around him for Ilúdör to drop in. And drop in he did, although he stumbled a bit when he land on a severed Urgal arm. Together, he and Vrael set off through the Urgals with previously unseen ferocity, sometimes laying low tens at a time, and yet the Urgals kept coming. It was as though something had them more afraid than the prospect of death at the end of the Riders blades.

And that something made itself apparent, when a voice rang out over the cries of battle. "Enough!"

The Urgals immediately fell back, running away, even, a couple times, at the expense of their life. Wiping the blood off his blade on the ratty clothes of one of the felled Urgals, Vrael turned to face his new enemy.

Suddenly it all made sense. The cruelty shown to the dying, the evidence of magic, the organization in the attacks, and the Urgals refusing to give up no matter how many of their kind were slain, pushing onward even though they knew it was to their death.From the shadows of the nearby trees approached two Shades.


	6. The End

_**Chapter X**_

Sorry guys, but after being gone from FanFiction so long, I come to see that my writing was rather immature, childish, and not very descriptive back when this was active. I cannot add any new chapters because of this fact (well, actually, I can't write much more because I cringe when I try to read over what I've already written ;-), so I am thinking that this is where it must end. Mayhap one of the many possible futures will come to be where I go back and revamp the story to a higher level and then continue, but the probability of this is not high. I doubt many are still watching Saphira, but those of you who are won't be as upset as if this story went after Eldest, because in a story before Eragon you can pretty much draw all the conclusions. For example, in my story, Vrael will live, as will Saphira, Galbatorix will lose his dragon and go mad—you know most of what comes to be, the only variables being my unimportant OC's and the way Paolini's characters get where they are. Therefore, though this may be disappointing, it's not nearly as bad as it could be. I doubt anyone is extremely attached to this story, but if you are, by all means tell me so—even one E-mail or review received from an individual who strongly wants this to continue might tip the scales towards me fixing it.

I get the feeling that I'm going to start rambling soon if I haven't begun to already, so again, apologies aplenty to anyone who is inconvenienced by this act. If there are no outspoken characters with the will to see this story go on, expect to see another story begin within the next couple of months. However, with the unpredictability of school, I can't offer that as a promise.

Until the next tale;

Ever yours,

Sithslayer


End file.
